When this Elevator is A Rockin
by kjewls
Summary: Tensions rise, shocking truths are revealed, and life-changing revelations are experienced, when Chuck and Blair find themselves stuck in a malfunctioning elevator at the Empire Hotel.
1. Chapter 1

Blair Waldorf rushed into the Empire Hotel, eager to escape the unseasonably cold winds of the Upper East Side. The blast of warm air that greeted her, as she entered the building, had a subconscious calming effect on her, as her heels clacked rhythmically toward the elevator.

It was there that she saw _him_. The slight blush on his cheeks indicated that he had just emerged from the cold as well. He was wearing the jacket she purchased for him, back when they were still dating . . . the one with the red lining that made him look like royalty, when he wore it . . . either that, or an exceptionally well-coiffed vampire.

His dark wavy hair was slightly tousled from its exposure to the outside elements. Blair found herself overtaken with an overwhelming desire to run her fingers through it, as she had done so many times in the past. Instead, she took a sharp intake of breath, and approached him with what she hoped was an air of confidence and nonchalance.

"Chuck," she said cordially.

"Blair," he responded with a cadence that matched hers.

A bit of awkwardness ensued, when they both moved to press the button for the elevator at the same time. The back of her thumb brushed against his, and the admittedly minimal body contact sent a wave of heat through her body, that she couldn't quite explain. He smirked a bit, before backing away chivalrously, so that Blair could do the honors.

"So . . . what brings you to the Empire?" Chuck inquired casually.

"A text from Nate," Blair replied, as she removed her phone from her purse, and angled it toward Chuck so that he could see the screen.

Nate Archibald was nothing, if not a concise texter. So, it was no surprise that the message in question was only three letters long: "S.O.S."

"I got the same text," Chuck replied, as Blair returned her phone to its previous hiding place.

"Any idea what it means?" Blair asked, focusing intently on the elevator doors before her, as if willing them to open faster.

"Last time Nate sent me a text like that, he had gotten into a sticky sexual situation with a woman he had met at a bar, the night before. It took three paramedics to separate them," Chuck said dryly.

Blair looked at him, horrified.

"Blair, I was kidding," he reassured her.

"I know," fibbed Blair.

The silence that followed was interrupted by the ding of the elevator, and the mechanical whirring that signified the parting of its double doors. "Ummm . . . I could take the next one," Blair offered, nervously.

Chuck laughed. "Blair, we've known each other our whole lives. Surely, we can manage to spend two minutes alone together in an elevator shaft, without the paramedics having to be called."

The allusion to Chuck's earlier comment regarding their mutual friend's sexual escapades wasn't lost on Blair. And yet, Chuck was right. He and Blair were adults, whose lives were bound to cross paths on occasion. There was no reason they couldn't be civil with one another. "After you," said Chuck gallantly, fighting the urge to press his hand against the small of Blair's back, as she entered the elevator in front of him.

This time, Chuck pressed the button for the penthouse floor. They stood in silence, shoulders barely touching, as they watched the numbers on the wall in front of them, light up, one after another. Blair could hear that Chuck's breathing had automatically fallen in sync with hers.

Instinctively, she licked her lips, in an involuntary sign of arousal. He noticed, but pretended he didn't. They both waited for something to happen. And then, it _did ._ . .

The elevator jerked violently, causing Blair to grab on to the lapels of Chuck's jacket, in order to maintain her balance. As the lights flickered around them, Chuck's hands encircled Blair's small waist, as her head pressed against his warm muscular chest. The all-too-familiar scent of her hair, reached his nostrils, intoxicating him. She turned her head upward then, to look at him, her expression a mixture of fear and excitement.

He tilted his head down toward hers, his heart beating rapidly, as the elevator appeared to be plummeting toward the ground. _If this is how I'm going to die, I'm going to make every last second count. _Chuck thought to himself, placing his hand on Blair's cheek, as he pulled her closer to him.

And then everything stopped. The lights came back on in the elevator. And the world of Chuck and Blair, which had, just moments ago, been a place of intense apocalyptic chaos, now grinded to a sudden, and unsettling halt. "Are you OK?" Chuck whispered in Blair's ear, his voice unusually husky and breathless.

"I think so," Blair replied, reluctantly, extracting herself from Chuck's grasp, as she straightened out the newly formed wrinkles in her dress, and examined herself for bruises that weren't there.

Chuck pressed the Emergency button on the elevator panel, multiple times. But nothing happened. The whole system seemed to have shorted. Chuck reached into his pocket, and grabbed his cell phone, raising it to the sky, as he moved determinedly around the small space. "No reception. You?"

Blair repeated the process with her phone, but to no avail. "Well, this is just great. How the hell is anybody supposed to be able to find us, when we can't tell anyone where we are?" Blair groaned.

Chuck shook his head. "Someone will find us," he reassured Blair. "You and I have never been the kind of people capable of staying hidden for long . . . despite our best efforts to do so."

Blair glared at Chuck. "You think this is funny, don't you?"

Chuck gave Blair a sideways look. "Not particularly, no," he replied. "But there was a time, not too long ago, when you and I would have found a lot of aerobic ways to pass the time in an abandoned elevator shaft."

Blair's eyes widened, as she clenched her fist. "Wait a minute . . . you planned this whole thing, didn't you? You thought if you could get me alone in an elevator, you'd have me naked in your arms, in two minutes flat. You just can't accept that I'm with Dan, now!"

Chuck narrowed his eyes at Blair. "First of all, get over yourself. Second of all, if I wanted you naked in my arms, I wouldn't need an elaborate Elevator Shaft Plan to do it. And, third of all, no, I can't accept that you are with Humphrey now, because the idea is absolutely ludicrous to me. Louis may have had no personality, but at least_ he_ was royalty. Dan is like the shirt on the Clearance rack at the Department Store with the stain on the collar, and the hole in the pocket, that nobody is ever going to buy, but the store keeps it there for posterity."

Blair grumbled, as she angrily took off her jacket and scarf, and placed them neatly in the corner of the elevator. "Sometimes you can be a real snob, you know that?"

Chuck grinned, as he took off his own coat, and scarf, tossing them haphazardly on top of Blair's. "I know I am. Being a snob is _fun_. You used to know that better than anyone else."

"Well, I've changed, Chuck. People change," Blair answered huffily, pulling her hair from the nape of her neck, to fashion it into a bun.

"Do they?" Chuck asked pointedly, loosening his tie, as he moved toward Blair, and delicately removed a stubborn strand of hair from her forehead.

Chuck's touch made Blair shiver, despite the heat that was rising in her cheeks, and causing small droplets of sweat to form on her brow, and across her chest. She gazed at him for a few moments, surprised that his dark eyes still had the same ability to mesmerize her that they always had. She had to blink multiple times to break the spell. "I'm burning up in here, Chuck. It's Five Star hotel. You would think, you could afford to have elevators air conditioned," she griped, pacing nervously around the room.

Chuck was sweating too, and the heat that radiated from his stomach, every time he got within five inches of Blair Waldorf certainly wasn't helping matters. And yet, he wasn't about to give Blair the satisfaction, of knowing she was right about something. "These elevators ARE air conditioned, Blair. But not when it's thirty degrees outside. And not when there's an _obvious_ power shortage, in the unit."

"Whatever! Your elevator, sucks, Chuck Bass," Blair seethed petulantly.

"So do you, Blair Waldorf. So do you," replied Chuck in exasperation, as he leaned his head back against the wall of the elevator.


	2. Chapter 2

Twenty minutes later, the temperature in the elevator had ratcheted up another ten degrees, and there was still no sign that help was on the way. Having finally accepted that this might take awhile, both Chuck and Blair were seated on the floor of the elevator. Their clothes . . . damp with sweat . . . clung to their bodies, as they tried in vain to avoid each other's eyes.

Blair's neck and cheeks were flushed pink, and the delicate silver chain around her neck felt as though it weighed a ton. Chuck's legs were flayed out in front of him, and a strand of wet hair was pressed against his forehead. His eyes kept wandering back to the spot on the Blair's neck where she loved most to be kissed. It was right within arm's reach, and seemed to be taunting him. He gritted his teeth, and brought his eyes back down to the floor.

Blair pulled a bottle of Evian water from her purse, opened the cap, and took a small delicate sip. Chuck's mouth opened ever so slightly, at the sight. The reaction didn't go unnoticed by Blair. Wordlessly, she handed the bottle over to her ex. It was an offering he accepted readily.

Instead of drinking the water, Chuck poured half of the bottle on his head, shaking his hair back and forth like a dog, as the liquid poured down his face, and across the front of his half-open shirt. Blair gawked openly, furious with herself for being so turned on by the sight. She quickly hid her arousal behind a look of disdain. "I can't believe you just did that," she scoffed, shaking her head with disapproval.

"I guess I wasn't thirsty," Chuck said smugly, as he re-capped the bottle and returned it to its rightful owner.

"You know, this isn't _Animal Planet_, or _Survivor: Upper East Side Edition_. Being stuck in an elevator for under an hour, doesn't give you a right to waste our sole water supply, just because you've decided to go bush!" Blair griped.

"Go bush? Is that a euphemism for sex?" Chuck inquired dryly.

At the moment Chuck uttered these words, Blair was about to take another sip of the now half-empty bottle of water. But something about Chuck's remark caused her to reconsider it. "Aw, what the hell," she grumbled, as she poured the remainder of the bottle on _her_ head.

Chuck laughed to himself, having considered the exchange a small victory, on his part. "See? I knew you were still in there somewhere," he said with a grin.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Blair asked, as she ran her fingers through her now-wet hair.

"_Fun Blair_ . . . the one who isn't afraid to get a little dirty . . . or _wet_," replied Chuck.

Blair narrowed her eyebrows, annoyed by the obvious implication of Chuck's backhanded compliment. "Chuck, just because I'm not hanging out in strip clubs, and humping _you_ in the backseats of limos, every chance I get, doesn't mean I'm not having fun."

Now, it was Chuck's turn to take offense. Using nothing more than her sharp tongue, Blair had just effectively taken some of their best memories together, and crushed them under her heel, like a used cigarette. He wanted to_ kill_ her. He wanted to _kiss_ her. Blair Waldorf always had this uncanny way of bringing out the best and the worst in him, simultaneously.

"Forgive me," Chuck said icily. "Clearly, I failed to take into consideration all the _fun_ you and Humphrey must be having together, now . . . doing each other's nails, and braiding that ridiculous hair of his."

Blair smirked in spite of herself, at the insult lodged at Dan's hair. It _was_ ridiculous, no matter how many times she tried to tell herself otherwise. "Not that it's any of your business, but Dan and I do just_ fine_ in the Fun Department," she said casually, as she fanned her face with an old credit card bill she found in her purse.

"Oh, so the sex is _good_? Because, I heard otherwise," Chuck remarked, a mischievous grin turning up the corners of his mouth.

Blair groaned in frustration. She then grabbed the first item she could get her hands on, and tossed it unceremoniously in the direction of Chuck's head. It ended up being her wallet.

The leather hit Chuck smack in the face, before falling directly into his lap. He opened it, and began casually thumbing through Blair's many credit cards. Blair's eyes widened, as she immediately realized her mistake. "Give that back," she exclaimed, as Chuck started scanning her billfold.

Chuck ignored her entreaties, now more desperate than ever to find what exactly it was that she was hiding. She propelled herself at him, trying to wrench the wallet from his fingertips. But Chuck was faster. He grabbed both of her wrists in his free hand, and held them aloft, as the two stared at one another, breathless, and fuming, their faces just inches apart.

She struggled under his firm grip, but that only made him squeeze tighter. Blair felt the pressure of Chuck's hand on her wrist, all across her body, particularly below her waist. She bit her lower lip, and let out a small grunt.

When Chuck found the photograph, however, his entire posture changed. He seemed softer, somehow . . . more vulnerable. He let go of Blair's hand immediately, so that he could hold the item in both hands, as if it was a priceless jewel. "This picture . . . it's _us _. . . at my father's wedding to Lily," Chuck exclaimed, awestruck. "You kept it all this time, even after . . . why?" He asked, his voice now barely a whisper.

Blair's lip quivered, as she stared, red-faced, at the floor. "I don't_ know_ why," she mumbled.

Tentatively, Chuck reached out his hand, and placed it gently on Blair's shoulder. "Yes, you _do_," he said quietly.

He was staring at her intently. But Blair still couldn't bring herself to look at him. "Things were so much simpler then . . . back in high school," she said, more to herself than to him. "We didn't think so, then. But they were. Sometimes, I wish I could go back to that time . . . before we made all these mistakes. Before it all got so screwed up."

"We can't erase our past, Blair. It's made us who we are today," Chuck offered.

"But what if I don't want to be _me_, anymore?" Blair asked, her voice beginning to waver.

Chuck placed his forefinger on Blair's chin, and gently lifted her face toward his. "Look at me, Blair. What are you trying to say?"

Blair closed her eyes for a moment, trying to break the hold he had on her. But once she reopened them, she found herself falling under his spell ,even faster than before. "Chuck . . . back when you were Henry Prince . . . in Europe . . . were you ever able to really . . . _forget_?"

Chuck shook his head solemnly. "No . . . not for a second. I changed everything about myself that I could . . . my name . . . my accent . . . the way I dressed . . . my home . . . I even got myself a new girlfriend. But deep down, I was always the same broken, and damaged, Chuck Bass . . . the man who loved Blair Waldorf more than life itself."

Blair's face crumbled, and she began to sob uncontrollably. "I lost her, Chuck," she whispered, "And no matter what I do, I'm never going to be able to get her back."

"Who?" Chuck asked, gravely, though he already knew the answer.

"My _baby_," Blair cried.

Chuck wrapped both of his arms around Blair, as she collapsed into him, her entire body wracked with months of unshed tears, which were just now starting to break the surface. In an instant, everything became startlingly clear to Chuck . . . Blair's pact with God, her decision to go through with that sham of a wedding, the drastic change in her personality, and wardrobe, even her relationship with Humphrey . . . it was all _her_ version of Henry Prince . . . her way of coping with the loss of the child she never knew she always wanted. Chuck never felt as close to Blair as he did in that moment.

He held her tightly, and let her cry for as long as she needed . . . whether it was minutes, or hours, he couldn't be sure. But when she fell silent, he placed both his hands on her cheeks, and wiped her remaining tears away with the tips of his fingers. "Thank you," she mouthed silently.

Chuck smiled sadly and nodded. And that was when she kissed him . . .


	3. Chapter 3

The first kiss was chaste. Her soft lips grazed his firmer ones, gently but purposefully, with the kind of familiarity that can only come from sharing many kisses, over the course of a lifetime. The first kiss was a "thank you" with just a hint of "I miss you."

Blair pulled back to gauge his reaction. He was smiling . . . not just with his recently-kissed lips, but with his entire body. Blair couldn't remember the last time she saw Chuck this happy. And if she really thought about it, she couldn't recall the last time _she _was this happy, either.

The next kiss was more intense. She crushed her body against his chest. Her palms pushed firmly against the blades of his shoulders, forcing him to sit on his elbows, in order to keep upright. Her still-damp hair fell loose around her face. It tickled his cheeks teasingly, while he kissed that sensitive spot on her neck, he'd been longing to touch since they got in the elevator. Blair let out a small moan of appreciation, and responded in kind. "Oh god, Blair," he whispered breathlessly, as he threw back his head, and arched his back toward her.

She ripped his shirt open, in a single determined pull. It was Go Time! And then, it _wasn't _ . . .

"Ohhh . . . we _can't _do this," Blair exclaimed breathily, as she tumbled back to the ground next to Chuck.

"Why? Because we're in an elevator? It wouldn't be the _first time_ . . . or the second . . . or third, for that matter," replied Chuck, with a shrug and a smirk.

"No, we can't do this, because I'm with _Dan_ now," Blair replied, feeling oddly self-conscious, as she rose to straighten her dress . . . which, at the moment, was teetering dangerously close to "wardrobe malfunction" territory.

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Today, you're with Dan. A week ago, you were married to Louis. A few days before that, you were planning to run away with me. What difference does it make?"

Blair's mouth dropped open, and she looked at Chuck, as though she had just been slapped. "How _dare _you?" She seethed.

But Chuck was unfazed. Still perched casually on his elbows, his expression, as he gazed up at Blair, was infuriatingly calm. "Tell me which part of my statement was untrue," he said plainly.

Blair frowned, raising her right hand to her temple, as if she had been overtaken by a sudden, and excruciating, headache. "You're right. It's all true," she admitted, sadly. "I'm a terrible person. I don't deserve _anyone's_ love . . . least of all _yours."_

Chuck sighed, exasperated, as he sat upright, pulling his knees toward his chest. "No Blair. You are _not_ a terrible person. And you certainly deserve to be loved. I didn't say all that to you, to make you feel guilty."

"So, why did you say it?" Blair whispered, turning toward the wall, so Chuck wouldn't see the tears welling up in her soft almond eyes.

Chuck rose slowly and walked toward her, as he spoke. "We're Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck. The worst thing you've ever done . . . the darkest thought you've ever had . . . I will stand by you through anything . . . because I love you."

Blair turned toward him, her eyes puffy, and red-rimmed. "I said that to you, after your father died," she said softly, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes.

Chuck gently placed his hands on both her shoulders, and looked her straight in the eye. "And now I'm saying it _you._ And I mean it . . . _every word_."

Blair sighed. How could she feel so safe and secure, when her life was spiraling out of control? "Since the accident, I've made such a mess of everything . . . with _you_ and Louis . . . with Dan . . . with Serena. I've hurt so many people, in so many ways," she explained.

Chuck smiled sadly. "Then, we'll fix it. We'll make it right, _together_. We have all the time in the world to do that now," he insisted.

Blair grinned. "It's funny. You say that with such conviction that I almost believe you."

Chuck tilted his head forward, so his forehead was touching hers. "Believe it, Blair, because it's all true," he promised.

"God, I love you, Chuck Bass. I love you so much, it physically hurts, sometimes," she exclaimed.

"Ditto," whispered Chuck in her ear, as he pressed her body against the wall of the elevator, with one hand, grabbing both of her wrists in his hands.

She wrapped one leg around his waist, and used it to pull him closer to her. Her other knee pressed itself between his legs, as his head sank toward her chest. Within moments, the two were moaning each other's names in unison. The sounds reverberated throughout the elevator, which was shaking for an entirely new reason now . . .

In the basement of the Empire Hotel was the control room. It contained, among other things, the electrical console for all the elevators in the building. Against the back wall of that control room were about twenty-five security screens. Normally, those screens displayed the video feeds from security cameras positioned throughout the hotel. At this moment, however, all twenty-five screens were displaying an identical image.

Raucous cheers echoed throughout the control room, as Chuck and Blair said those monumental three words and eight letters to each other, once again. Those cheers turned into slightly less tasteful exclamations of excitement and encouragement, when Chuck amorously pressed Blair against the wall of the elevator. And those lascivious exclamations were followed by a series of frustrated groans, when all twenty-five screens suddenly went black.

"Please . . . Miss Blair and Mr. Chuck need their privacy," lectured Dorota, as she stood in front of the video screens with one hand on her hip, and the other holding a long black electrical cord. "Back to work, all of you, or I will have Mr. Chuck fire your asses!"

The staff of the Empire Hotel grumbled collectively, as they slowly made their way out of the security room. "Um, Muffin . . . should I turn the elevator back on, now?" Vanya inquired, his hands hovering nervously over the control panel.

"Nah . . . lovebirds need more time for Big Chair Reunion . . . at least twenty minutes . . . make that forty-five," Dorota said to her husband with wink.

The loyal housekeeper then walked toward the entranceway of the control room, where Nate was standing with Dan and Serena. "I think this is yours," she said, deftly slipping the incriminating iPhone into Nate's shirt pocket. "I must go cook dinner for Miss Blair. Something tells me, she is going to be very hungry, when she gets home."

Nate shook his head, and smiled. "I wish _I_ had a Dorota," he mused. "Maybe if I did, I wouldn't keep falling into these crappy relationships with emotionally unavailable women."

"You and me both," Dan grumbled, digging his heel into the floor.

"Are you going to be OK?" Serena inquired, putting her arm protectively around her flannel-armed ex.

Dan shrugged, and wrinkled his nose. "Yeah . . . I guess I will. The fact that Blair yelled out 'Ohhhh, Chuck, don't stop,' the first time we slept together, should have been a real hint that it wasn't going to work out between us. Besides, all this heartache is going to give me some really great material for my next book."

Serena laughed, and placed her free arm around Nate. "Come on you two, let's go get drunk."

_It took about three hours to get all the elevators in the Empire Hotel up and running again . .__. _


End file.
